


Let's Hear It For Captain America!

by Wolveria



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Had Enough, F/M, Fake Marriage, Halloween, Halloween parties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy Captain America Costume, Sexy Costumes, Sherry's Fall Into You Challenge, Smut, Top Bucky Barnes, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, romania - Freeform, rough bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 11:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21252935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolveria/pseuds/Wolveria
Summary: For Halloween, you thought it would be hilarious to dress up as a salacious version of his best friend. Bucky was not amused.orYou dress up as Sexy Captain America and Bucky ruins your costume.





	Let's Hear It For Captain America!

**Author's Note:**

> For Sherrybaby14's Fall Into You Challenge. This was a lot of fun to write and I have no shame. It's a little bit silly, a tiny bit ridiculous, and a whole lot of sexy Bucky. Enjoy.
> 
> Prompt: “The only scary thing here is you.”
> 
> Warnings: Smut, rough Bucky (you can only push the guy so far before he makes you pay for it)

You trekked carefully down the metal staircase, mindful of your shaky ankles. The knee-high red boots were probably not the best idea, but you didn’t have far to go.

Plus, there was no way in hell you were getting rid of the boots. The look didn’t work without the boots.

Reaching the next landing, you checked over one shoulder to make sure your companion hadn’t fallen behind. One grumpy super soldier, a James Buchanan Barnes, followed you in sullen silence, his blue eyes narrowed into thin slivers of ice.

“Come _on_,” you needled him plaintively. “It’s _one_ night. _One_ party. It won’t kill you to make nice with the neighbors.”

He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. You rolled your eyes and turned away, knowing the lecture you would receive later.

_I’m being actively hunted by the U.S. Government, which puts you in direct danger._

_The point of hiding is to **stay **hidden._

_HYDRA could still be out there._

_Blah, blah, blah._

“We’re spending Halloween _in_ Romania,” you pointed out for probably the tenth time. “I’m not missing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Bucky remained silent, probably grateful that you’d given up trying to get_ him_ to wear a costume. He hadn’t thought dressing up in a store-bought version of the Winter Soldier had been very funny. You understood his reluctance, but you also wondered if he had left his sense of humor in 1945. Your costume shouldn’t have brought up any negative emotions for him—quite the opposite—but he seemed to hate it even _more_ than the commercialized Winter Soldier getup.

It didn’t matter. Bucky could protest all he wanted; he couldn’t stop you from wearing it.

You only had a couple floors to go and soon you arrived at the actual party. You found it to be a nice little break from the monotonous space of your tiny apartment you shared, but you knew Bucky wouldn’t feel the same.

It was part of the reason you were trying to pull him out of that granite, impregnable shell. You had tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to show him that there were perks to living under a false identity. You got to make up who you were. No one knew about your past and you could start fresh.

Bucky didn’t seem to see it that way, and he remained as sullen as the first time you met him.

The entire building seemed to be alive around you now, everyone’s doors opens as little kids and teenagers ran from apartment to apartment.

Already anticipating that the quick movements would set him on edge, you reached back and took Bucky’s right hand in your left. It was warm and solid underneath the gloves he always wore. As you predicted, his fingers were tense and rigid, but as you kept walking they gradually relaxed and slowly hooked around yours.

It wasn’t unusual for you to give him a light touch; for you to maintain your cover as a married couple, some physical closeness was necessary in public. He never initiated contact, however, leaving the awkwardness of that to you. Just another way the guy didn’t make your life easier.

When you arrived at the party, it was already in full swing. Most of the adults were in costume, though many weren’t, only there to keep track of the younger kids. Tiny Hulks and miniscule Iron Men and even a few small Captain Americas were spotted running around the party. You were simultaneously disappointed and relieved there were no little Winter Soldiers terrorizing the place, but you knew the costumes were definitely out there. Ever since S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files had been released to the public, everyone knew about the tragic story of Captain America’s best friend-slash-turned unwilling enemy. It had captured the public’s imagination, and Bucky insisted he couldn’t understand why people were so enthralled by it.

It made you wonder if he had a romantic bone in his body. Being with him on the run for a year-and-a-half, you had little evidence to the contrary. The only time he showed you any kind of affection was to convince the neighbors you were married, and even then, his affections were stilted and clearly made him uncomfortable.

You sighed and leaned against the wall as you overlooked the party, which by now was spilling over onto the balcony and the stairwell. You had lost track of Bucky a minute ago and half-believed he had run off back to the sanctuary of your apartment.

Left alone, it didn’t take long for the other building tenants to wander over and start chatting, or rather start flirting, with you. You weren’t sure why this was something that happened to you ever since you’d lived in Bucharest. When you’d been single and available, no one would look at you twice.

And now that you were supposedly a married woman, men seemed to flock around you. At first it had been flattering; now you wanted to punch out all their teeth.

You managed to disentangle yourself from not one, but two of them, until Kyle managed to corner you. You sighed, trying to appear not completely put-off as he leaned against the wall and began talking despite your body language telling him _very clearly _you weren’t interested.

This wasn’t the first time Kyle had started flirting with you, and you doubted it would be the last. Even with the fictitious wedding ring on your finger, and the fact Bucky glared murderously at him whenever he was in sight, Kyle didn’t seem to take the hint.

You tried to do your best to brush him off and scanned the room for signs of Bucky. It shouldn’t have been difficulty with his height and broad shoulders, but he had the uncanny ability to blend into any crowd, even a colorful one at a Halloween party—

A hand was on your bare thigh, sudden and invasive. Without thinking, you punched Kyle in the side of his ribs so fast it almost looked like a playful gesture. He bent over and held his side as he gave a wheezing cough.

“I think he’s had too much to drink,” you said to Evangeline when she looked over at the two of you. She made a sympathetic face and walked over, grabbing one of his arms.

“Come on,” she told him wearily. No doubt she’d had to deal with a drunk-Kyle before. Kyle looked up at you with a shocked expression, but the smile you returned was as sweet as the pumpkin cupcakes next to him on the table.

_“Fucker,”_ you muttered under your breath once he was out of sight. Your smile began to fade only to return, genuine this time, at the sight of Bucky returning with two cups of what looked like fruit punch. His jaw was tense and his eyes were a little too watchful under the brim of his black baseball cap. Even now, in the midst of a family Halloween party, he refused to drop his guard.

In a way, his constant vigilance made you feel safe. Not that you would ever dream of telling him that.

“I thought a tiny Black Widow had chased you off,” you joked as you took the cup he handed you. You surveyed the room and tilted your chin towards a corner where a group of baby Avengers had assembled. “They are scary little things, aren’t they?”

You tipped the cup towards your mouth. Bucky’s lips were suddenly against your ear as he said in a low voice, “The only scary thing here is you.”

You choked and sputtered on the sweet drink. Bucky put a concerned hand on your shoulder as you coughed up the liquid that had gone down the wrong pipe.

“I am not! _Scary!”_ you protested between coughs, your cheeks heating as you glared up at him. You hoped he took your blushing as a reaction to nearly choking, not by the strange thrill that had filled your gut at the sensation of Bucky’s voice right in your ear. “This costume was a stroke of _genius_ and you almost made me spill punch on it.”

“Mmm, shame,” he replied evenly. But you noticed the crinkles at the corner of his eyes and knew he was in the vicinity of a smile. “But that wasn’t what I was referring to. Your form is getting better.”

You wiped at your mouth and tried not to blush at his praise. It was getting to the point in your pining where he could read combat techniques from a drill manual and you would still find it sexy. Sad, really sad, but this was your life. All you had was the fantasy, never the real thing, and it didn’t help that lately he had been doing things like stripping off his shirt before going into the bathroom to shower. Or you’d wake up and he’d be making breakfast while shirtless.

In fact, a lot of your fantasies had started to revolve around him starting off shirtless, exposing his sculpted muscles shamelessly. If you hadn’t known him better, and considering how long you’d been living together you thought you knew him as well as any one person could, you would have thought he was doing it on purpose. Bucky Barnes the strip-tease. God only knew the talking down you would have gotten if he had any idea the gremlin thoughts running through your little head.

Ah, well. At least he wasn’t reprimanding you for punching one of your neighbors.

You reluctantly pulled your eyes away from the object of your longing and looked down at yourself to make sure none of the pink liquid had gotten on your uniform.

The uniform in question had not only been brilliant, it had also been a move of desperation. Nearly all of the costumes at the store had been sold out, expect for one _Sexy Captain America_ that was just your size.

It wasn’t so much a Cap “uniform” as it was a red, white, and blue showgirl dress with a white star emblazoned on the chest. Your favorite part was the ridiculous felt helmet, complete with a pair of little wings on the side of your head.

You thought it would be hilarious to dress up as a salacious version of his best friend.

Bucky had not been amused.

You downed the rest of your punch, disappointed it wasn’t spiked, and sighed through your nostrils. “I think I’ve had enough fun. You?”

He made a noise of affirmation, and you expected him to make a fast bee-line toward the door. Instead, he placed a hand at the small of your back and guided you out in a gesture that was perfectly normal for couples but felt especially intimate tonight. Knowing the fingers were metal underneath the glove did nothing to quell the sudden heat curling in your lower belly.

You were _really_ glad to be leaving now. At least back in the apartment you could distract yourself with a cold shower.

The sound of the party receded behind you, and sighed in audible relief once you were back in the safe quietness of your living space. It was a small studio, barely big enough for one person let alone two, but you made it work. At first, because you had to, but now you genuinely liked living with the quiet, albeit sometimes surly, super soldier.

It was too bad with all of his sharp-eyed observation he continually failed to notice you as more than just a co-habitant.

You pulled off the cheap cloth helmet and shook out your hair. Bucky was watching you out of the corner of his eye, no doubt silently judging you _yet again_ for your choice in clothing. You looked down at your uniform one last time, reluctant to put it away. Who knew if you would be here next Halloween, and the realization filled you with surprising sadness.

And then you noticed it. The glaring pink stain on one arm of the white star.

“Oh, _come on_.” Not worried about Bucky’s judgement now, you rushed into the kitchenette and pulled off one of the washcloths hanging on the oven door, wetting it under the faucet. “If it doesn’t come out, you’re buying me a new one,” you muttered as you rubbed at the stubborn stain. It wasn’t coming out. You scrubbed harder, grumbling under your breath.

Bucky didn’t answer, but you were too busy fussing over the fabric to care. You made an annoyed noise when the water dripped down the front of your uniform and onto the floor. You leaned over the edge of the sink so you wouldn’t make such a mess.

Something warm and solid bumped against you.

“What—“

It pinned you against the counter. Your surprise was quickly replaced with shock when Bucky’s hands reached around you to grip the edge of the sink.

He was bodily pressed against your entire back. Your heart raced in your chest as your mind shuddered to a halt.

“You wanted to wear the damned thing,” he rumbled into your ear. “Not my fault you can’t keep it clean.”

“Uh…”

You couldn’t form any words. Not with the way his hips were pressed against you and his hard chest on your back. You couldn’t react when he took the cloth from you and began to slowly and deliberately clean the star right between your breasts.

“Um…” you repeated, completely gobsmacked.

“Yes?” he asked, so casually, as if what he was doing was completely normal. As if his breath wasn’t hot on your neck. As if his hands weren’t practically on your breasts. As if the erection you _definitely _felt straining against his jeans wasn’t pressed into your ass.

What the _hell _had gotten into him? You felt like a deer trapped in the headlights. Or one frozen in fear as a predator prepared to lunge and sink his teeth into her neck.

“This is…” Your voice trailed off, sounding semi-breathless to your own ears.

“…what you get when you strut around, teasing me with your bare thighs and glimpses of those black panties?”

Heat flushed through you like an electric jolt down a wire.

“I wasn’t _strutting_,” you snapped in a voice too high for your normal vocal range. “And I wasn’t… _teasing _you, either.”

“No?” he murmured against your ear. You felt the bare fingertips of his right hand trace up the outside of your thigh, making you jump. “Then I guess you’re not wearing black panties, either.”

Before you could stop him, he slid his hand up your poofy skirt, hooked a finger in the side of your underwear, and pulled on them far enough so he could see that they were, indeed, black.

Then he released them and the elastic snapped against your hip, making you give an indignant, _“Hey!”_

Bucky spun you around and pressed your back against the counter as he stared down at you, eyes dark and heated.

“What?” he prodded in a tone edged like a blade. “If _I_ noticed, you can bet those men you were talking to did too. And to think.” He lowered his face closer to yours, his bright blue eyes drifting down to your lips. “You’re supposed to be a married woman.”

His hands were on your arms now, one warm and calloused while the other cool and unyielding. You tried to ignore the contradictory sensation and regain your wits to try and figure out what the fuck was going on with him. Was Bucky actually pissed or was he just messing with you? You didn’t know, but either one was very unlike him.

Besides, _you _were the one who would tease and flirt with him, all harmless in an attempt to get him to crack. His stoic façade had never shattered once, so his abrupt turnaround was a complete mystery to you.

“Well, I’m not a married woman,” you responded with a defiant lift of your chin. If he thought you were falling for his bluff, he was going to be disappointed. “So mind your business what I do with other men.”

Without warning, he thrust his thigh between your legs, forcing them apart. You gave a startled noise as he pressed his entire body against yours so the top of his thigh met your clit through your panties.

You gave a startled moan and immediately bit your lip, but it was too late. He’d heard it too. He raised his eyebrows in a mock question, a very faint smirk on his lips.

You sputtered and tried to recover your dignity.

“Bucky, what the _fuck._ What are you—“

“Shhh,” he hushed you as he rubbed his thigh against you. You gave a small whimper, and pressed your legs together harder. It made the pressure even more intense, which was precisely what you didn’t want.

He pulled his leg away from your pelvis and you sighed in relief. The sigh turned into a small cry when he reached forward and shoved his right hand down your panties, his fingers sliding between your folds.

“Hmm, yeah. Just as I thought,” he practically purred. His metal hand was at the back of your neck, curling his fingers into your hair.

“Soaked.”

Before you could protest, he spun you around again back to your original position, this time with his hand down your panties. He lightly gripped you around the neck with his metal hand, an unspoken warning to hold still. You were too overwhelmed to move, his warm fingers against your clit rendering you basically helpless.

You dug your fingertips into his arm but didn’t shove him away. If anything you were using him as an anchor as your knees began to wobble.

“Bucky,” you tried one more time. Pleading for something you couldn’t identify.

He hushed you again, sounding more like himself for a moment. Your grumpy, quiet, gentle Bucky.

“I’ve got you.”

His lips were on the side of your neck, and you were too far gone to care what he did to you.

You moaned and tilted your head to the side, lulling your head against his shoulder as he began to fuck you with his fingers. All the tension and unrequited attraction came to a head, and it wasn’t long before the pressure between your thighs began to build.

_“Bucky,”_ you whined again, more urgently this time.

“You wanna play at being Captain America? Super soldiers have more control than that.” He lightly nipped at your earlobe and dropped his voice. “We also have an inhuman amount of stamina.”

You couldn’t even begin to process that statement before he was speaking in your ear again, low and rough.

“You’re so close, I can feel it.”

You never thought you would hear_ that_ voice talk dirty to you, and it was going to ruin you for every other man in existence, without a doubt.

“Do you want to come on my fingers?”

You could hear the teasing smirk in his voice, but you didn’t care. Whatever front you had tried to put up had vanished into thin air, probably around the time he had put his hand down your underwear.

_“Yes,”_ you croaked, needy to your own ears. “God, _yes.”_

“Ask me nicely,” he drawled. It was cruel, the way he weaponized his voice against you, and he must have known exactly what he was doing. You felt him prod the shell of your ear with his tongue and you whined pathetically.

_“Please,_ Bucky. God, please, I _need _you.”

His fingers paused for a moment. You thought you were in trouble. You hadn’t meant to expose yourself like _that._

But then Bucky slid his hand down and prodded at your entrance before pushing inside with two fingers, his thumb on your clit as he curled his fingers against the sensitive flesh inside.

You cried out a curse, bending your head back. Bucky released your neck and pushed down the top of the dress, exposing your breasts. He took one nipple in his metal fingers and delicately rubbed it between them. It sent a jolt down your spine and through your gut, causing you to clench around his fingers as the dam finally broke and you voiced a wordless cry.

He held you through your release, his arm around your waist practically the only thing holding you up.

“My turn.”

You didn’t have the wits or the time to contemplate that ominous statement. Bucky released you, grabbed the back of your neck in his metal fingers, and bent you forward over the edge of the sink.

“Buck—_aah!”_

Your protest turned into an indignant squawk when he tore off what was left of your ruined panties, and he didn’t stop there, rucking up the skirt around your hips as he caressed his calloused hand over your skin. He explored down the curve of your ass, and without warning, slipped two fingers into your soaking folds.

You squirmed and bit off a moan, but his metal hand on your nape kept you in place.

“Now,” he said, far too casually for someone holding you down and slowly finger-fucking you against the sink, “do you want it like this, bent over because you can’t wait another second for someone to fuck you? Or…”

He added a third finger and you hit your knee against the counter as your body jolted. You clenched your jaw to keep from crying out; the walls were thin, and you really didn’t want your neighbors to hear what they should have heard long before now if you’d actually been spouses.

You felt a warm weight across your back as he leaned over you.

“…do you want me to put you on the counter and fuck you right there? Make it so you can never make another meal again without thinking of me between your legs?”

“Oh, God,” you stuttered out, unable to pull forth a full sentence.

“Choose.” He slid his fingers out of you, tortuously slow, his breath hot on your cheek. “Or I’ll choose for you.”

_“Bucky,”_ you whined breathlessly. It wasn’t fair, you could barely function, barely think, and he was demanding the impossible.

“Counter? Or sink?”

You moaned pitifully, shivering as your thighs tightened and your walls lightly pulsed around his fingers. If he kept this up, you were going to come again, and he must have sensed that because he pulled out almost immediately. You gave a pathetic noise at the sudden emptiness.

“Looks like it’s dealer’s choice.”

He released the back of your neck and grabbed your hip, metal fingers gripping your flesh as you felt the head of his cock slip between your folds and push against your entrance. You were shivering by this point, perfectly still otherwise, and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he said, “Breathe.”

You exhaled shakily, your hands gripping the edge of the sink in a desperate grip.

As you breathed out, Bucky began to push. You shut your eyes tight and he said, “Relax,” and loosened his hold on your hip. He rubbed the flesh he had been gripping a moment ago, and you relaxed automatically.

“That’s my girl,” he said soothingly, the edge of humor back on his voice. “You just need a gentle touch to get all soft and pliable. A few seconds with me and you’ve got no more hard edges. That’s what those boys out there don’t understand. They’re all fumbling hands and no _skill.”_

If his sinful tone hadn’t made you melt, the feel of him pushing his cock inside you sure as hell would have. He was slow and careful, but with how slick you were it wasn’t too difficult for him to fill you the rest of the way. Still, the stretch was a_ lot_ to get used to, and you bent your head forward and groaned at the sweet burn of it.

When his hips were flush against you and his cock was firmly embedded inside, you shuddered hard and gave a muffled whimper.

He cursed under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening again. “You really don’t know how to relax, do you? You say I’m a tight-ass, but it’s nothing compared to your_ actual_ tight-ass.”

You tried to laugh, because honestly what else could you do in this insane situation, but it came out as a choking groan. He wasn’t kidding; either you were really tight or he was just too much. You could feel every inch of him straining at your walls, and you were almost afraid to move.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, the touch of his hands on your hips a light stroke as if you were his pet. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

As if he didn’t already fucking well know. Bastard knew exactly how to get under your skin even as he was balls deep in you.

_“Asshole,”_ you hissed between clench teeth.

“I was planning on working up to that,” he said with a laugh just on the edge of his words. “But I mean, if you want to I’m more than willing—“

_“Bucky!”_

This time he did laugh, and the jostle of his hips was enough to send a tremor through your walls.

It was little wonder you finally snapped, spouting your words like fire.

“Goddammit, Bucky, just fucking fuck me already _before I die here impaled on your dick like some kind of human shish kebab—“_

He pulled his hips back until his cock was halfway out of you, and slammed forward.

The cry that left your mouth was both nonsensical and far too loud. You bit down on your hand just as he did it again, pulling even further out this time before thrusting back into you. The sound of flesh impacting flesh was obscene in the small space of the apartment, but you wouldn’t have made him stop no matter if the entire building heard.

Bucky took your hand from your mouth, tsked at the teeth marks imprinted in your flesh, and pulled your arm behind your back. Bucky did the same with the other hand, effectively pinning both of your wrists with his flesh hand as he continued to grip your hip with the metal one.

“None of that,” he said in a low, almost soothing tone. “Let them hear how much you’re enjoying it. In fact, I prefer it.”

You groaned in protest, or maybe in overwhelming need, it was really hard to tell with the friction building inside you.

He continued to roll his hips but picked up the pace, and the uncomfortable tension of your arms behind your back forced your spine to arch and your hips to angle upward, allowing him to reach deeper. The ache in your shoulders was completely muted by the growing electric pressure in your core.

You choked out his name, a plea to keep going, to never stop, and he rammed into you harder but with shorter strokes. The constant motion against the sensitive spot inside you kept building and building until tears leaked from under your lids and you thought you might combust.

He murmured encouragement; he had to have known you were close from the way you were squeezing around his cock. Without warning, you crested over the ridge, sparks exploding before your eyes as your body went taut. You cried out his name, breathy but unmistakable. Bucky released your wrists and you gripped the sink, hanging your head forward as you tried to catch your breath.

He pulled out suddenly and you would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed you around the waist and turned you around, lifting you up onto the counter. You stared at him, nearly eyelevel now, dazed and shivering from the aftershocks.

You had never seen an expression like this on his face before, the ring of blue bright and intense as the black of his pupils expanded. There was color high on his cheeks and a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead, and his lips were pink and recently bitten.

You wanted nothing more than to taste those lips, but before you could even try, he leaned forward and pressed against you, using his hand at the base of his cock to aim, dragging the head against your entrance. The shaft was glistening with your slick, and you could see now why you had been so stretched before.

“Come on, Cap. You gonna stare all day or are you gonna give me my orders?” His lips curling into a wicked grin. “You’re the commanding officer here.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, seeing the silent laughter there.

“Huh?” You sounded exactly as dazed as you felt.

“Captains are officers, sergeants are enlistment. So, what are my orders, sir?” As he spoke, he continued to tease and prod at you. It was unfair how much control he had over himself when you had shaken apart twice now.

Super soldier stamina, indeed.

“I… I want you to…” You didn’t know why you felt so shy all of a sudden; Bucky was literally dragging his cock across your pussy while baiting you to order him to fuck you. Maybe it was the way his blue eyes shot straight through you, but you felt overheated and frozen simultaneously.

“Don’t be shy now, sweetheart,” he teased, slipping back into that heated New York accent had had heard hints of before. In this situation, it should have been illegal. “Everyone heard you squealin’ just a moment ago.”

_“Bucky!”_ you scolded him even though you were in literally the last position to have any dignity intact. “That’s not… we shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t be…”

His face was already close, but he moved in even closer, his mouth tantalizingly near as he breathed against your lips.

“Little too late for that, but we can stop if you really—,” he ran the head of his cock right across your clit, slow and firm, “—want to. Just give the order.”

You shut your eyes, both to cut yourself off from his piercing gaze and to give yourself time to think, and also to fully enjoy the tingling heat that fluttered throughout your core. You wanted to hurl at him every curse you knew, both in English and Romanian, but that’s not at all what you ended up doing, because honestly, whose fault was it that you were in this predicament? All because you insisted on teasing him with that stupid sexy Captain America costume.

_Well, you know what they say. If you can’t beat ‘em…_

You opened your eyes and fixed him with a hard stare. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, but when you tilted your chin back and parted your thighs further, his eyes widened.

“Then stop teasing and take care of your superior officer, soldier.”

With a quick but obscene movement of his tongue swiping across his bottom lip, he grabbed your leg in his metal hand and hoisted it around his waist while at the same time pressing himself against your entrance. You moaned sharply and would have grabbed onto his shoulders for support as he pushed inside you but he immediately pushed you back flat against the countertop.

The only warning you got was Bucky positioning your other leg around his hip. He shoved his hips against you before you were entirely ready, and a shudder ran through you as heat and electricity shot up your spine. Bucky pulled out halfway and did it again, not as forcefully but still enough to arch your spine and force you to fight to breathe properly.

Bucky kept a merciless pace, your walls tightening against the ruthless friction, and your fingers curled around the edge of the counter to keep from behind fucked right off the countertop. The sound his cock plunging in and out of you was lewd and filled the small apartment, and the fact you were both almost completely clothed made it even more indecent.

Both of his hands were on your hips now, though not with the same pressure. His metal hand held you firmly but with reservation, while the fingertips of his right dug into your skin, trembling in a way that betrayed his veneer of control. It felt as if he was holding back, and with her super soldier strength he most likely was, taking care not to hurt you. God, he could break you like a dry twig if he lost control, and that fact made you want him that much more.

You tried to be quiet, pressing your lips together so hard they stung, but your efforts crumbled as you felt a pulsing in your core. You gasped Bucky’s name over and over, not sure what you were asking, nonsensical and soon squirming as you felt the steep peak approaching.

He must have been close because he didn’t speak, only made the occasional breathy moan or muffled grunt, but he reached down and press his thumb to your clit without warning. You whimpered sharply and arched your back, an electrical current tightening every muscle of your body as you hung on the edge of the proverbial knife.

When you tipped to the other side, your orgasm slammed into you so hard you couldn’t breathe, a harsh whine in the back of your throat as your walls throbbed around him and brightly-colored sparks exploded behind your closed eyelids.

He cursed and his rhythm went off, but he fucked you through your climax and continued to rub you until you were so sensitive you started squirming and would have batted his hand away if you hadn’t been clinging onto the counter for dear life.

Bucky pulled out suddenly and removed his hand from your clit but held on tightly to your hip with his metal digits. You could even feel them tighten as he cursed again, his voice hoarse and out of breath, and a moment later you felt something warm hit your chest.

It took you a few seconds to be cognizant enough to open your eyes let alone lift your head, but you did, and looked down to find… ribbons of cum covering the white star on your chest.

Your costume might have survived the punch stain, but Bucky had made sure it was beyond saving now.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or yell at him, and you ended up doing neither, your body trembling and covered in sweat as it recovered from the third orgasm wrenched from it. You hadn’t been so thoroughly fucked in your life, and lying on the kitchen counter, covered in Bucky’s cum, was the last way you would have expected Halloween to end.

Bucky seemed very pleased with himself as he smirked down at you, but you felt very pleased with your_self_ from the way he couldn’t seem to catch his breath and the ruffled state of his hair, the flush on his cheeks, and the overall look of his flustered appearance.

He leaned forward and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you. His mouth hovered over yours, lips slightly parted with a wicked look in those blue depths. You held your breath as he traced his metal fingers down the curve of your bare though.

“That’s for torturing me for the past eighteen months,” he mumbled against your lips. He pulled away, tucked himself back into his jeans, and left you there, blinking and breathing hard on the counter top, struck dumb.

You’d been _doing_ what for _how long? _

“I… _did not!”_ you squeaked in protested as you pulled yourself down onto unsteady feet. Your body felt like it was made out of jelly and cooked noodles, and your skin was oversensitive and raw. It was no wonder, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had multiple orgasms forced out of you so… vigorously.

Still, that didn’t absolve him of his wrong statement, and you were going to correct him on it.

_“You’re_ the one who’s been tormenting _me _for the entirety of our—“

You turned toward the living room and shut your mouth with a small _pop_. Bucky had pulled his shirt up over his head and was in the process of stripping off his boots. He pulled his jeans over his incredible ass and muscular thighs, and continued along this fashion until he was completely naked.

All you could do was stare, and holy shit there was so _much_ to stare at. He turned his head to look at you and quirked up his lips into something far too devious for the grumpy potato you had always believed him to be. After tonight, you had some serious reassessing to do.

“Gonna take a shower.” He raised an eyebrow. “You coming or not?”

Even now without a stitch of clothing, his heated gaze made you feel as if you were the one exposed.

_“Captain.”_

He blinked owlishly as you unzipped the back of your costume and let the red, white, and blue dress fall to the floor. “I’m still your captain, Sergeant, and you will refer to me as such.”

He managed to pull his face into a serious line even with the laughter in his eyes, and he snapped you a crisp salute.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://trashmenofmarvel.tumblr.com)


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